A well and boiled frog, I am.
My sticky tongue ate up that scam.
Webbed toes can't swim away
The lid is closed for holiday.
Don't know what I coulda done
Nobody coulda saw that'd come.
My frog anatomy succumbed
to temperatures about a ***-
dred and seventy-three,
and for the perfect duration
to cook me.

Now that cruelty owns the day and night
my shame is for my petty plights.
This life I spent
belaboring,
and savoring
my own productivity.
Creatively struggling
just to be
a member
of society.
Why didn't they tell me it was just a joke?
Those who have will have some more,  
and the rest of the poor folk...

On the way back from the abyss,
the dramatist starts and fits,
"Put me back in the black again,"
with squeezed fists and limp wrists.

The darling's staple diet of bad news,
black coffee and sweet candy
kept their spirit sickly.
Obviously.

Exposed to blaring overcast,
the dramatist retracts,
surprisingly intact.
In fact stronger than before
now in their validation.

Returned to comfy pit,
went the dramatist.
For the pit inhibits
in consistency.

No new delights,
or flights of fancy.
Not to be caught
between what's seen
with eyes shut,
or what they see.

The dramatist,
in the blackened emptiness,
will never notice
when they've passed
the horizon.

I began,
petty, indulgent,
with a dream to fulfil.
Building places to hide,
to protect my child mind.
The wish, instilled
longing
with no plan.
"**** the boy,
become a man."
bound in duty
twisting enjoyment
to what task
he is unsuited.

The leaky dam looks fine from here.
Just— stand right there.
Can you believe, there've been thirty accidents
since last September.

Statistically, for this facility,
that's rather subdued.
Oh, ignore that light.  (It won't stop blinking,)
so we're having it removed.

A hat is made from a heart.
The marrow becomes electricity.
Streaking red blood and bone.
Fortune's tenacity.

Well, so long. Arrivederci.
This ending was foretold
—quite early.

Then atrocity was done,
In the name of everyone.

Forget not what they did to you.
Forgiveness is the new taboo.

Eye takes eye. Hand takes hand.
Never be the better man.

On the high road walks the scorned,
and ******.
Turned cheeks well worn, their tears well ran.

Know not peace, but know thy enemy,
then burn thyself in his effigy.

It's a big cartoon map of the world.
Tragedy emblazoned with bright colors.
The patriotic eagle selling you fluff.
Ornaments of suffering.
Divided by thick red lines,
Each nation is reduced into an effigy.
Remember when this waterslide
was a mass grave?
You bow your head
for a moment
of silence.

Then...

get up,
get down,
dig deep!
turn 'round!
Ya can't stop!  
raise ya hands!
get on, y'all
tragedy dance!

This flag, ya!
You know the one.
Hee-ya! (kicks)
Gonna get you!
Alright.